


paint a picture of it

by thessalonike (starblessed)



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Dorks, Friendship, Gen, Jealous Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 13:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/thessalonike
Summary: Reggie and Julie become Art Buddies. For some reason, their friends are less than thrilled to be left out of the loop.----Alex inclines his head towards Reggie, who’s now bent over one of Julie’s cartoon sketches, raving about how dynamic her poses are.Luke’s shoulders stiffen. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”“I think it’s an art term,” Alex replies slowly, “and we wouldn’t get it.”
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Julie Molina & Reggie Peters
Comments: 8
Kudos: 98





	paint a picture of it

**Author's Note:**

> i've seen the headcanon on tumblr that reggie was the one who designed the sunset curve logo, and i'm absolutely in love with the idea of artist!reggie, so... take this complete nonsense. julie and reggie are besties and you can pry that headcanon from my rigor mortis-gnarled hands.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [reggieshairflip](https://reggieshairflip.tumblr.com/)!

“These are amazing! You’re really playing with color composition here, I like how you blend it all together.”

“Really? I don’t love how this one came out. It’s a little, y’know —“

“Yeah, the shading of this one is off... I like what you did with the jewel tones in the grass here, but it might look better with more emphasis on the green.”

“You think? I couldn’t find the right tone. It was either _too_ green, or a gross shade of yellow —“

“You’ve gotta find a color in between. Go in-between the green. Even if you have to blend two colors together to make it work —”

"Blending always looks so obvious, though!"

"Yeah, if you go in without any technique! You've got to make it look _natural."_

Julie bites her lip, considering this verdict for a moment, before giving a sharp nod. “Here,” she exclaims, spinning away from the drawings spread out across her desk. She ducks beneath it for a moment, and re-emerges with a large purple box, hand-painted with golden floral embellishments. As soon as it’s set on the table, the lid gets tossed to the side, bouncing off of her bed and onto the floor. “Behold, my entire stash of colored pencils, pens, and markers. I _know,_ I know it's messy, but I tried to organize them by color, so which do you think —“

Reggie’s eyes are bugging out, mouth twisted into an perfect donut hole of amazement. When Julie catches sight of his expression, she bursts out laughing.

“You wanna look through them?” He’s too awed to speak. She pats him on the shoulder instead. “Go wild.”

“You are my new best friend,” Reggie declares, and descends on the box like Christmas has come early.

“Hear that, Luke?” asks Alex, barely looking up from the book in his lap. “You’ve been replaced.”

Luke definitely heard; he’s hearing _everything,_ and seeing a lot more than he wants to. Being given free reign over Julie’s phone is a rare and precious opportunity. Sometimes she’ll sit them down with an app game, just to keep them busy, but she hardly ever lets them explore 21st century social media. _(“Groundrules first: you’re not allowed to post anything, like anything, comment on anything, follow anyone, unfollow anyone, log out of anything —“ “Julie, we’re just proud of ourselves for figuring out how Candy Crush works. You’re giving us too much credit.”)_

Luke _should_ be milking this opportunity for all its worth. Instead, Julie’s phone went dark long ago, locking him out, and he hasn’t even noticed. The... _antics_ of their two bandmates are way more interesting; and if he’s being honest, impossible to ignore. 

Julie never lets them look through her sketchbooks. It’s another one of her “boundaries”, and she’s more dead-set on this one than any of the others. Even hanging out in her room isn’t forbidden anymore, so long as she’s around to keep an eye on them… but the shelf of notebooks and art supplies beside her window, always piled high to the point of overflowing? Strictly off-limits. “Those things are expensive,” Julie told them sternly, “and personal. You go near them, and I’ll show you exactly how creative I get with permanent markers.”

They didn't even know if Sharpies could leave a mark on ghosts... but Julie's glare made it clear that she would try, and she'd figure out a way. No one wanted to test her.

After all that... all Reggie has to do is make a single comment on a drawing sitting on her desk — _“Whoa, Julie, love the perspective you’re working with here!” —_ and suddenly, Julie comes alive. Her eyes are alight, there’s a spring in her step, and she can’t show off the rest of her drawings fast enough.

Not to all the boys, though. Oh no — only Reggie gets that honor.

“You’re jealous,” Alex hums cheerfully from where he's sunk deep into Julie’s beanbag chair.

Luke hunches forward, elbows on his knees. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not,” he retorts, even as his frown deepens. Now Julie’s showing off her prized collection of glitter pens. As Reggie _oohs_ and _aahs_ over the sparkly art supplies, she grins wide, nose crinkling at his blatant admiration. Something in Luke’s stomach curdles, like a glass of milk left out in the LA sun all day. “It’s just — why _him? We_ can have opinions on art too.”

Alex glances sideways at him. “Mmm. You sure had an opinion fifteen minutes ago, when Julie showed us her sketches and you said ‘cool, way to draw stuff’. And then went back to Googling pictures of dogs.”

“There’s _gotta_ be more dog breeds now than there were in the nineties, and Google just shows 'em all, Alex, come on —“ Luke cuts himself off, reorienting on the crisis at hand once more. “Not the point! Her drawings _are_ cool. What else could I say?”

Alex looks like he's just been hit in the head by a lemon. "How are you an artist?" At Luke's blank stare, he sighs. "If you showed someone one of your songs, and they just said, ‘whoa, cool’, and then _immediately_ loses interest, what would you think?”

“That I’d be better off showing ‘em to someone who gets music,” Luke replies promptly.

Alex inclines his head towards Reggie, who’s now bent over one of Julie’s cartoon sketches, raving about how _dynamic her poses_ are.

Luke’s shoulders stiffen. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I think it’s an art term,” Alex replies slowly, “and we wouldn’t get it.”

Luke could get it. Luke wants to get it. There’s no reason Luke couldn’t be standing right up there with them, doodling with glitter pens and admiring all of Julie's poses… except he doesn’t know the first thing about art. Literally... nothing. His ability to sketch has always been limited to _really_ killer stick figures, and the occasional self portrait that looks more like a cry for help. Doodling in the margins of homework — sure, that comes easy. Actually drawing? Straight lines, realistic features, things that look good, look like _something…_ that’s on another level of talent.

And Luke is talented, don’t get him wrong! He can create images, too; he can spin shadows through the air and shape them into something vivid. He can tell weave stories in vibrant color, and make them into something beautiful. With a pencil in his hand, he’s unstoppable… but his mediums are words, melody, lyrics. His canvas is a blank notebook page; his finished product is a song. Writing, to Luke, comes easier than breathing…

But ask him to draw a perfect circle? It’s _going_ to come out looking like someone sneezed while doing geometry homework.

“Wow, Reggie, I never knew you had an eye for drawing!” Julie exclaims, and the sour milk churns in Luke’s stomach. She lays a hand over the other boy’s arm, leaning in. Reggie angles himself towards her with his typical sunshiney guilelessness; clearly, he’s just happy to have found someone else who knows the first thing about art.

“Yup! Designed the Sunset Curve logo myself, way back in the day. Bobby and I sprayed it out in the garage. We decorated Alex’s drums, our band kits, our bus... everything!” He tosses a glitter pen in the air, and catches it after a neat somersault. "Some of my best work. Think I really got the curve right. "

“Every band needs an artist,” Julie hums sagely, before grinning wide. “And _we’ve_ got two!”

“Actually, I’ve, uhh —“ Reggie’s hand twitches up, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. “I’ve got a few notebooks back in the loft. Some of the drawings aren’t half bad? If you wanted to take a look at them —“

“Yeah!” Julie exclaims immediately. “I’d love to!”

Luke tips forward, the heels of his sneakers slamming down on the floor. Now, even Alex has been pulled from his book, allowing it to fall closed in his lap. It’s one thing for Julie to show off her neat, paintstakingly maintained books of sketches, but… _Reggie?_ Reggie, whose battered old notebooks are basically his diaries, and the _only thing_ he’s ever private about, ever?

Aside from scribbled country songs occasionally slipped into his stuff, Luke’s only ever gotten a handful of glances into Reggie’s books. After more than a decade knowing each other — almost _three_ decades, if the afterlife counts — Reggie still plays his artwork close to his chest.

Now, he can’t show them off fast enough. Seizing hold of Julie's hand, he gives her a tug, and she drops her handful of pencils on the desk to rush after him. The two of them are already hurrying out the door when Julie glances back — having the decency to remember her fellow bandmates.

“Come on, guys! This’ll be fun!”

“Fun for who, exactly?” Alex grumbles, hailing himself to his feet. Julie’s already down the hall, too far away to hear. 

* * *

By the time they poof into the studio, Julie and Reggie have beaten them there. Voices drift from the loft, not bothering to hush themselves for anyone else’s benefit. Julie’s is high with enthusiasm; Reggie’s they can barely make out, which says enough about how personal showing off his sketches is to him. It's a big deal — like cracking open his soul and exposing it to the light. Uncertain as he may be, he’s still doing it... for Julie. He’s opened the core of himself up to her — _Julie, who they’ve known for all of four months!_ — and left them in the dust.

“Okay,” Alex says quietly, staring up at the shadows reflected on the studio ceiling. “Now _I’m_ a little jealous.”

“A little?” Luke echoes. “You’re stronger than I am, man.”

Julie exclaims loudly over something in Reggie’s book — “these are _amazing_ , oh my god, Reg!” — and his chuckle echoes throughout the studio. The curdled milk in Luke’s stomach is rapidly congealing into a blob of unpalatable goo, sitting heavily below his core, leaving him queasy. He stomps over to the couch and drops down upon it with a resounding huff. The springs bounce; the leather creaks. Not a single person looks his way.

“This looks exactly like some of the tags I've seen along Hollywood Boulev— oh my gosh, wait! Does this mean you know how to spraypaint?”

“Yeah, I sure do!”

“Could you teach me?”

“Heck yeah I could!”

Julie’s laughter rings out over the sound of an enthusiastic high-five. After a moment, Alex trudges over to the couch, shoulders slumped, and drops down beside Luke.

“We’re gonna have to learn how to draw now, aren’t we,” Alex says.

“We have to, man.” Luke sucks his cheeks, still glowering up into the loft. “Need to keep up with the game. Sketching, painting, pottery... paint-by-numbers. We gotta learn it all.”

Alex sighs, dropping his head back against the couch. “I guess we’d better start haunting some art classes.”


End file.
